There is a place inside you No map has ever traced, a quiet room behind the ribs where light forgets to stay. No one sees it when you smile, No one hears it when you speak. It moves beneath your laughter like a river running deep. It is yours alone to carry, not carved for other hands, a language made of silence Only your soul understands. Some mornings it is heavier, a stone you cannot name, And still you rise and wear your life as if it were the same. But pain, it does not leave you when ignored or pushed away, it waits within the folds of time, it learns you day by day. It is not your enemy, though it cuts without a sound; it is the truth you buried but still lives underground. And yes, there are nights it breaks you, when endurance feels too wide, when even breath feels borrowed And there is nowhere left to hide. Yet somehow you continue, not because you do not fall, but because within the breaking You still answer life’s call. You learn to walk beside it, not beneath it, not above...
Nature did not come to me softly,
It found me when I was already breaking,
When my breath felt heavy in my chest
and my thoughts dragged like shadows
I could not outrun.
I was low,
sunken into a quiet emptiness
that no voice could reach,
No light could hold.
And then…
It touched me.
Not gently,
never gently.
It pressed against my skin
like something alive,
something watching,
something waiting
for me to surrender.
The wind curled around me first,
fingers tracing along my neck,
lifting my hair like a whisper
that knew my name before I spoke it.
I trembled.
Not from cold,
But from the way it felt
intentional.
Nature did not comfort me,
It awakened me.
The earth beneath my feet
felt closer than it should,
like it was pulling me down
only to hold me deeper,
to remind me
I was never separate from it.
And then the fire,
God, the fire.
It didn’t just burn,
it entered in me.
It moved through my veins
like a slow, rising heat,
curling into my chest,
spreading into places
that had long forgotten
how to feel.
Nature gave me fire,
and with it,
strength.
But not the kind
that stands quietly.
This strength hunts,
it breathes,
it desires.
It made my body remember
what it was to be alive,
not just to exist,
but to ache,
to crave,
to want something
so deeply
it feels like survival.
And I felt it,
that shift.
That's dangerous,
beautiful shift
from emptiness
to hunger.
The trees stood around me,
silent witnesses,
their shadows stretching
like hands reaching closer,
their stillness thick
with something unspoken.
I closed my eyes,
and in that darkness,
I felt it again.
Nature,
wrapping around me,
pressing into me,
holding me
like a lover
That does not ask permission.
There was romance in it,
but not the kind
soft enough to forget.
This was deep.
This was consuming.
This was the kind of closeness
that doesn’t stay on the surface,
it sinks in,
marks you,
claims you.
The air itself felt heavier,
charged with something
I could not escape,
something that made my skin
burn slowly,
like a secret
being uncovered.
I exhaled,
and it felt like a release,
like surrender,
like giving in
to something I had been denying
for far too long.
Nature gave me renewal,
But it came wrapped in desire.
Not just a desire for life,
but desire to feel,
to touch,
to be consumed
by something real.
My mind opened,
not in calm,
but in awakening.
Every thought sharpened,
every sense heightened,
every part of me
alive in a way.
That felt almost dangerous.
And I realized,
this was not just healing.
This was a transformation
laced with longing.
I was no longer empty.
I was no longer still.
I was burning.
And in that fire,
in that deep, intoxicating pull,
I found something I never expected:
A love,
wild, untamed,
and unapologetically intense.
A love that did not whisper,
but took.
A love that did not ask,
but claimed.
A love that did not fade,
but rooted itself
deep within me.
Nature did not just restore me,
it awakened a desire
I could never be silent again.
And now,
I don’t want to be saved from it.
I want to burn.
© 2026 Gloria Penelope
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